Paramour
by Chaff13
Summary: The war is over, but a new one as begun. Hermione returns to Hogwarts for her 'seventh' year as head girl, but without her two loyal companions. Evil is lurking in the shadows, but can an unforeseen change of events, and an old enemy, save Hermione from the darkness?
1. Prologue

**A/N: So, this is a new story of mine. Kinda similar to others, but I have something different planned if you'd like to stick around and fine out. **

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowlings owns all.**

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><p>It was simply unbelievable. Inconceivable. Mad! Crazy, even.<p>

Hermione just could not believe her two best friends would not be joining her during her seventh year at Hogwarts.

Sure, her seventh year was supposed to be last year, but McGonagall had offered a make-up year due to the war. Of course, Hermione sprung at the opportunity. How was she to get a respectable job without a full seven years of magical education? She could go straight into Auror training like Harry and Ron, but Hermione would rather stay away from violence after seven years of the constant fight for survival.

She had an exceptional row with both the 'boys' about their decisions.

"How could you give up your education like that?" she had asked.

"Hermione, you know you're probably the only seventh year going _back_ to school. Most people want to get away from school, but all you can do is go running back," Ron had shot back roughly.

"But Ron, you have to have your N.E.W.T's for any job application. Not everyone is just going to give you the easy way out because you're a damn war hero!" she yelled venomously.

"Aurors can. Harry and I are already set up for training. Hermione, just come with us! It can be just like old times. We can go through training together, fight together; you can help me and Harry with the paperwork stuff-"

"I don't want to!" she screeched, effectively cutting him off. "I don't want to be your little pet bookworm that does your work for you! I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want to be a damn Auror. I've had enough terror for one lifetime, thank you very much!"

"You know what, you're just scared! You're doing what you always do when life comes at you. You go running off hiding behind your books! It's bloody pathetic, Hermione, and I'm sick of it!" he yelled right back. However, when he saw the hurt flash in her eyes, remorse quickly flooded his face.

"Hermione, I'm s-"

"Don't you dare talk to me, Ronald Weasley. You go off and be a bloody hero and bask in all your fame and glory while you can. I'll just go 'hide behind my books' being the pathetic coward I am. Just stay the bloody hell away from me."

With that, she stalked out of the room in Grimmauld place. She hadn't spoken to him since.

Harry was a bit more understanding.

"It's what you really want, isn't it? To go back to school, I mean?" he asked, being kind enough to actually acknowledge her feelings.

"It is. Maybe it is cowardly, but I feel like it's something I need to do," she said as she sat across from him at the kitchen table.

"It's not cowardly if you're going after what you feel is right," he responded soothingly.

"Thanks," she said, sending him a grateful smile. "And I understand why you want to be an Auror. I do wish you would go to school first, but you were made for it. Just…look out for Ron, would you? You know how he is," she muttered.

"Will do," he answered with his own smile.

So, here she was, sitting in a train cart with Ginny and Luna. It seems Ron had been right about one thing. Hardly any from her year were returning to Hogwarts. As she twisted the Head Girl badge secured tightly to her robes, she wondered who Head Boy would be. Was there even a male student from her year? So far, she had only seen Katie Bell. If there wasn't a boy from her year, would it go to a sixth year student? Hermione paled at the idea of sharing the Heads Common Room with a total stranger.

"Hermione?"

She looked up, startled to see Ginny's face in her own.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"Yeah, we're going to be arriving soon," Ginny said slowly, a look of concern on her face as she studied her best friend.

"Right," Hermione replied. "I better get to my duties then."

She jumped up and quickly left the cart, hurrying to get away from Ginny's prying gaze. Ginny meant well, but the people she really needed to talk to were hundreds of miles away in Auror training.

She began patrolling the train, stopping at each cart to make sure the students had changed into their robes and were ready to arrive at the castle. This was one of her jobs as Head Girl, as she had been told in her letter. In fact, the letter had been very thorough in describing her duties as well as where she would be staying. The only thing it didn't tell her, to her dismay, was the identity of her partner. She began to again wonder who the Head Boy could possibly be. However, she found out quickly enough.

She was just exiting a cart full of rather rowdy Hufflepuff boys when collided with a very hard and solid object. As two hands gripped her arms to keep her from falling to the floor, she realized the solid object was the chest of a rather tall, rather muscular male. She noticed the Head Boy badge pinned to his shirt just above her nose. So, here he was. He must have been patrolling like she was and had caught up with her.

"Mind watching where you're going there, Granger?"

She froze as she recognized the cool tone of that drawl. She glanced up into his silver eyes and could see his trademark white blond hair. Her face paled as he looked down at her with his signature smirk.

_Bloody hell, this is going to be the most miserable year ever._


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: So, here is the first chapter. I'm naming the chapters after songs that I think may fit them. Or, it may be a song I was listening to when I wrote the chapter. Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

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><p>Back in Black<p>

"Malfoy?"

This couldn't be happening! What on earth was he doing here, let alone wearing the Head Boy badge? How could McGonagall make him Head Boy? This was impossible? He was a bloody Death Eater for Merlin sake!

He raised his eyebrow cockily and, in what she could only describe as a Malfoy tone, replied, "Yes, Granger?"

Her sense seemed to snap back into her. She narrowed her eyes and started thrashing about violently.

"Get your hands off me you filthy little cockroach! How dare you touch me after what you've done. You pathetic little piece of sh-"

"Whoa now, Granger. Calm down," he said hastily, putting his hands up in a sign of surrender. He had released her the second she started fighting against him.

"First off, you're the one who ran into _me. _Remember? Second, I was only trying to keep you from falling flat on your face. You're welcome," he continued rather gruffly.

"Oh please, like you would waste your _precious_ time to help me out! Don't make me laugh!" she hissed, in a manner worthy of a Slytherin, he noted.

"Well, I did, didn't I?"

She froze again as her retort got stuck in her throat. In fact, he had. Normally, she would've expected him to let her fall straight on her face and then laugh at her expense. Or, if he had caught her, tease her about falling on him out of desperation. He had done neither. Instead, he was actually being somewhat tolerable?

"What are you even doing here?" she shot back, ignoring her thoughts.

"Mother and Father thought it would be best if I continued my education," he responded in a bored voice, as if he's repeated the sentence a thousand times, which, she was sure, he had. Surely everyone had been asking him why he had returned.

It was no secret that the Malfoys had switched sides at the last minute, effectively guaranteeing their safety from prison once the war was over. However, just because they were saved from Azkaban didn't mean they were saved from political or public persecution. The Prophet had a field day about them, telling the entire Wizarding World about their periods as Death Eaters. Basically, the Wizarding World still hated them.

"Daddy Death Eater wanted you to return to Hogwarts? Oh, but I forgot, you're a Death Eater too," she said with pure venom. She noticed his jaw clench and his nostrils flare, but she continued on dangerously.

"What, is this part of some evil scheme you have? Carry out the rest of Voldemort's work, huh? Tell me, are you planning to kill all us filthy 'mudbloods' left in Hogwarts?"

She expected anger, rage even. She expected him to yell, to hit her, to curse her, to hex her. Anything close to Malfoy would do! But, as she was quickly learning, he wasn't doing the expected.

Instead, his jaw unclenched and his eyes fell to the floor guiltily. He took a deep breath and let it out almost shakily. Finally, after many long moments of him staring at the floor and her staring at him, he looked up, his silver eyes locking with hers.

"No," he spoke softly, his voice full of remorse. "But I guess I deserved that."

She carefully kept her face a mask of rage, but inside she was reeling. What on earth was going on? Who was this imposter? Malfoy didn't show remorse, least of all to her! This is not supposed to be happening. She had to get out. Thankfully, at that precise moment she felt the train pull to a stop.

"Right, well, if you'll excuse me, I have to lead the first years to the castle," she retorted, then pushed past him roughly. Things were certainly not going her way this year.

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><p>"But Professor, this is insanity! <em>Malfoy?<em> How could you possibly make him Head Boy?"

Hermione was absolutely seething through the entire sorting ceremony. This couldn't happen. She wouldn't let it happen. Surely, if she appealed to McGonagall's compassion and, quite frankly, pure reason, surely the Headmistress would see there had been a mistake.

So, that's what she set out to do. As soon as dinner had been dismissed, Hermione rushed through her patrols, making sure the new first years found their way to their common rooms and what not, and then stormed to McGonagall's office.

As she ascended the spiral staircase, she could see the minor changes. When she walked into the office, she could sense it more. They were delicate changes to Dumbledore's previous study, so miniscule in fact, she doubted anyone else would notice. But she did. There was a slightly more feminine feel to the room that hadn't been there before, and hint of vanilla in the air.

She confronted McGonagall head on, determined to be rid of Malfoy by the end of the night. After only a few moments, however, she realized her attempt was futile.

"Miss Granger, I understand your anger and your confusion on this subject, but I assure you I have thought very carefully about this."

"But Professor," she repeated, knowing full well she sounded like a spoiled child who hadn't had her way. "He's vile, not to mention pure evil. You've seen what he's done! You know who he is! How could you let that traitorous little-"

"Miss Granger! As I said, I understand your anger, but I will not have you undermining my judgment. I indeed do know what has done. I also know that in the final battle, he came to our side-"

"Only to save his own skin! That coward knew we were winning, so of course he joined. The only thing Draco Malfoy has ever been concerned about is himself!"

Her shouts echoed through the suddenly silent room. McGonagall no longer looked angry, like she expected. Instead, she sighed sadly and looked at Hermione with knowing eyes.

"You don't know how wrong you are my dear," she responded softly.

Hermione stared on with confused eyes. "What are you talking about, Professor?"

"Suffice to say has done more for _our_ cause than you could imagine."

Hermione's tongue itched to ask for more information, to plead with McGonagall the details behind her vague statement. However, the look on McGonagall's face told her that was all she was getting out of her, for her own sake. In fact, the old Transfiguration Professor looked slightly worried, as if she'd already let too much slip.

"Alright, maybe he's not the pure epitome of evil. But he's still Malfoy! He's the worst possible example for anybody to be following, and he should not be Head Boy. I mean, honestly, _anybody_ would be better-"

"I'd like to stop you there, Miss Granger, with three points. First, he has the highest marks of all the males students in your year. He came in second only to you. Second, he was actually one our best Prefects in his fifth year. And third, well, as I'm sure you've noticed, there aren't exactly many male students present from your year. In fact, there are maybe twenty, and I assure you, is the best of them."

Hermione could see she had lost. She had no arguments left, as McGonagall was clearly right. But she still had to try.

"But-"

"Enough, Miss Granger! I will not argue with you any further on this. My decision is final. Now, go back do your dormitory before curfew."

And she was dismissed.

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><p>As she walked dejectedly through the corridors, she couldn't help but think about how she had miserably failed. And now, worst of all, she had to live with Malfoy for an entire year.<p>

She stumbled rather than walked through the portrait hole on the seventh floor that led to their joint common room. She noticed, briefly, the grandeur of the room. There was a brilliant fireplace along with two separate seating areas on one side, each area decorated accordingly with their houses. On the other side, a magnificent library of sorts took up the walls. Toward the back of the room, on each side there was a staircase that led upwards to what she assumed were their living quarters. Her observation of the room was cut short when she heard a drawling voice from over near the fireplace.

"Isn't it a bit late? I never would have thought you would be cutting it so close to curfew, Granger?"

She turned and glared at him as he sat in a comfortable looking armchair the exact shade of Slytherin green.

"Sod off, Malfoy," she seethed. That wiped the arrogant smirk right off his face, she noted with satisfaction.

"Hey, I was only joking, Granger," he replied, again in that soft, remorseful tone. She couldn't stand it! Not that she wanted him to be mean, but, well, she did. He was Malfoy! He couldn't just change on the drop of a hat. She fully intended to antagonize him until he showed his true colors.

"Really? I didn't know you told jokes, Malfoy. I thought you only found humor in dead puppies, crying babies, torture and such," she fumed. Again, she expected anger, and again she was surprised. She saw him wince when she mentioned torture. _Good,_ she thought. _Serves him right for sitting there and watching as I was tortured._

"Can I talk to you?" he asked softly, ignoring her perfectly insulting comment. Why wasn't he reacting? Why wasn't he calling her a Mudblood or hexing her?

She found herself walking toward him, not sure if she'd heard him right. When she was nearly two feet away and he had said nothing else, she knew she had.

"What? Need directions to a Mudblood rally so you can curse them out of existence? Sorry, can't help you-"

"I'm serious," he cut her off, his voice still soft, but somehow forceful as well.

She regarded him momentarily before she sat down in her own Gryffindor red chair, which was far too close to his, she thought.

"Fine. Talk," she huffed angrily.

He turned toward her and opened his mouth, then closed it and looked down at his feet. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he was struggling for words. But, this was Malfoy she was talking about.

"I…I don't really know how to begin," he started quietly. He looked up into her eyes, locking on to them. And as much as she hated to admit it, there was something burning in the pools of silver that had her breath caught in her throat.

"I owe you an…apology," he eventually said with much difficulty. And she could see why. She doubted he had ever made an apology in his life. But why start now, and with her?

"Um…what?"

_Nice, very articulate, Hermione. Can't believe you're the top of your year._

"I know I haven't been the nicest to you over the years."

She snorted, and he gave her look, pleading her to go easy on him as this was already hard enough. Like hell she would.

"Alright, I've been a total ass. I know that. And after what happened at my house….look, I'm not asking for your forgiveness-"

"Really? Because I was under the impression that was the whole point of apologizing-"

"Damnit, Granger! Could you please just let me get this out?" he barked, but not angrily she noticed. She couldn't quite pick up on that hidden tone in his voice.

As he saw the anger burning in her eyes, he added again," Please."

And then she pinpointed it. Desperation. He felt he really needed to say this. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

She gave another huff, and he took that as his sign to continue.

"Like I said, I'm not looking for you to forgive me. I know that everything I've said, everything I've done, all of it, is inexcusable. But I do want you to know that I truly am sorry. I was wrong. About you. About everything. And I was hoping that we could come to a sort of agreement to be somewhat civil to each other whilst living here."

She gaped. She was shocked. Malfoy was truly apologizing. Malfoy was admitting he was wrong. Malfoy wanted them to be nice to each other. It was too much, too otherworldly.

"So, what? You say you're sorry and the past seven years disappears and we become chummy little roommates?" she asked sharply, but with much less anger than before.

"I'm not saying we have to be friends. But it would make it a whole lot better living here if we weren't constantly at each other's throats. Wouldn't you agree?"

She narrowed her eyes at him as she thought it over. He did have a point. And it was her last year. She'd rather not spend it alternating between the hospital wing and cursing him to oblivion. And, though she knew she shouldn't trust him, he did look sincere. She slumped into her chair as she let go of the rest of her anger. She was too tired to keep it up.

"Fine."

He looked up at her with wide, shell-shocked eyes. "Really?"

She gave a stiff nod in response. Then, Hermione Granger was sure the earth was spinning wildly of its axis, for Draco Malfoy smiled. He didn't smirk or even grin. It was a full, blown-out, teeth-showing smile. And, she hated herself for thinking, it was beautiful.

"You can't do that though," she shot off, her voice trembling slightly.

His smile faltered and she saw the curiosity in his stare.

"Smile," she answered his silent question. "It's already bad enough that you're being nice to me."

Then, he laughed. Malfoy was bloody laughing! Had she been transported to an alternate universe? Had some worldwide spell gone awry?

"Would you prefer I be cruel?" he asked, still chuckling.

"Well, no-but-it's just…Well this is just all so…odd. You have to know that," she sputtered, she now the one grasping at words.

"What I know," he said, his laughter now gone, but mirth still in his eyes, "is that you are a few Sickles short of a Galleon if you're getting upset over someone being _nice_ to you."

She let out a very loud cry of frustration. She propelled herself out of the chair and stormed toward her dorm…until she realized she didn't know where that was. Reluctantly, she turned on her heel to face him again. And there it was! The arrogant Malfoy smirk.

"Which room is yours?" she forced out, her voice too controlled. He automatically pointed to the one closest to them.

"I figured you would prefer the one by the library."

She stiffened. That was…incredibly thoughtful, for Malfoy at least. This is exactly what she was talking about when she had said he was being too nice. Her anger came back full force. _He's not going to win me over just because of a bloody room._

"Thank you," she muttered angrily before spinning around and continuing her storm, now in the right direction. As she ascended the staircase, she swore she heard a faint chuckle, but she ignored it.


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N: So, I noticed a lot of people reading this story, but there are no reviews. While reviews are not necessary, they are greatly appreciated, so If you would please leave one that would be great. Now, this chapter swaps to Draco's point of view. I'll be swapping back and forth between POV each chapter from here on out. So, without further ado, on with the chapter.  
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><p>Apologize<p>

He watched as she stormed up the staircase to her room, chuckling softly at her rage. He had always enjoyed riling her up. It was one of the reasons he teased her for as long as he did. Bloodlines no longer meant anything to him. In fact, they ceased to be much more than an idea forced upon him since birth around his fifth year. But she was just so…amusing when she was angry at him. So, he kept it up partly just to witness the determined set of her jaw and the fire in her eyes.

In truth, though, the other reason he continued to be a cruel, heartless bastard to not only her but everyone, was that he was scared. He had to keep up pretenses, lest word get back to his parents through his so called friends in Slytherin.

He knew what his father would do if he was seen befriending 'mudbloods.' He shuddered as he thought of the word. How many times had he called her that hateful word? How many years had he teased and tortured…Unwillingly, his mind recalled Hermione talking about torture. He started to get a vision, a memory, of her lying on the floor of his house. He pushed the thought away as he pushed himself from his seat.

Why was he doing this?

_Because,_ he thought to himself,_ for once you're not going to be a bloody coward. You're going to do what you know is right, even if it means losing your idiot of a father. You're going to be better than him._

As he thought more of his father, his started to pace in anger. His father, who had beaten into him all his life that he was better, they were better, and all because of their superiority of blood. His father, who had trapped him and his mother for years into his own political and social beliefs, bringing them down with him as he fell into the Dark Lord's world. His father, the most cowardly and pathetic excuse for a human being he'd ever met in his life.

How, for so long, had he looked up to that man? How had he, for any amount of time, believed his lies of their superiority? How had he managed to get himself into the same predicament, working under the Dark Lord out of fear?

He knew now how wrong he was, how blind he'd been. He'd been in battle and seen the fallen from both sides. _Blood superiority,_ he thought disgustedly. _There's no superiority in blood. I've seen the blood of hundreds, pureblood and muggleborn alike, and both bleed just as red. Both smell of rust and salt. Both victims stare longingly to the heavens as the light leaves their eyes._

And then he knew. He knew the true reason behind his recent actions. For all those he'd seen suffer and die because of an idiotic idea he himself had once believed. He wanted to save that many from a terrible fate, and more. He wanted to make up for not only his mistake, but the mistake of hundreds before him.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a light _thump_ and a muffled curse. Once he could hear her moving around her room again, clearly uninjured, he smiled to himself.

_Perhaps,_ he thought with a wry grin,_ there could be another reason._

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><p>There was a girl, with long, brown curls. She was lying down, her back against a cold black floor he knew all too well. And above her was a woman, black hair sticking out at all angles. The woman was perched over the girl like a predator would its prey.<p>

He watched as the woman leaned down to whisper into the girl's ear. Her only response was a whimper of fear, and his gut clenched. He tried to move toward her, not wanting to see the terror that was about to befall upon this poor girl. However, he found he was rooted to the spot.

The woman pulled out a knife, and he tried to turn away, knowing what was coming next. But he could still see them. The woman, now laughing maniacally, pulled out the girl's left arm and started carving into it with satisfied eyes.

He felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks as he watched not his aunt's actions, but the girl's face. The girl he had known and tormented for years, who had more bravery than any other he had known, now reduced to a screaming mess on his sitting room floor. He looked into her eyes and saw her pain and fear. He wanted so badly to take it all away, to save her.

He tried to yell for her, to tell his aunt to stop. But his screams fell upon deaf ears as Bellatrix continued carving that hateful word into Hermione's arm.

He was sobbing now. He commended her bravery once again as he noticed she wasn't crying. She never did. Not until the very end, when the last letter had been completed, did she allow a single tear to slip across her cheekbone and down to the floor. As he saw it, he knew the nightmare was over. It always ended there, right after he had seen her spirit break.

He awoke with a start the next morning. It was that bloody nightmare. He'd been having it every night for the past six months, and each time he never failed to bolt awake, breathing hard, drenched in his own sweat and tears.

It was like this every night. He tried, over and over, to reach her in time, to save her. But every night, he was forced to watch her be tortured again, as he had that night all those months ago when his own fear for himself was what kept him still. Every night he was forced to replay his biggest mistake, his deepest regret.

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><p>He strode into the common room, still uneasy from his nightmare. Sure, he had it every night. But he had seen Hermione only hours before, making it ten times worse. It brought her to life so much more in the dream, making it feel so real again.<p>

"Good morning," said a clipped voice from behind him. He spun around to see the girl of his dreams, literally, sitting in a squashy red armchair, a textbook open in her lap.

"Same to you," he responded politely. "Studying already, I see. You know, you can't get too much ahead on your homework when classes haven't even started yet." He chuckled slightly.

She blushed slightly as she slammed the book shut. The color on her cheeks intrigued him more than he would've liked. She stood swiftly, reached for her book bag that was resting at her feet, and stalked toward to portrait hole. He quickly grabbed his own bag and rushed after her.

"Oh, come on, Granger. I was kidding," he huffed, running to catch up with her. She halted suddenly and turned on him, causing him to nearly run into her still form.

"You're the one who wanted us to be civil. So, you can start by not being such a bloody ass all the time!" she all but growled, shoving a finger at his chest as she spoke.

Her breath was coming fast from both her anger and her attempt to evade him. She still had a pinkish tint to her cheeks, gloriously contrasting with the rest of her creamy, smooth skin. He could see a fire dancing in her chocolate brown eyes and it excited him to no end. She was so close right now, so wonderfully close. All he had to do was lean in a little further…

_What the bloody hell, Malfoy? This is fucking Granger we're talking about here. Get your mind out of the gutter and apologize before she hexes your ass into next week!_

"Right," he mumbled, shifting nervously as he gained control of his thought again. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. But honestly, Granger, you need to learn to take a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

He had regained his usual confidence, glad he had control of the situation. She huffed once more, then her defensive posture fell as she looked down to the floor.

"You're right. I guess I'm just a little tense is all. I shouldn't have reacted so dramatically," she whispered apologetically. Suddenly, she looked up into his eyes from underneath her eyelashes, and his breath caught in his throat. She was so incredibly enticing, and she didn't even know it.

_Why, why, WHY is this happening?_

Draco pushed his thoughts aside and gave her a stiff nod. "Do you want to talk about it?"

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. _Talk? You're actually asking her to tell you about her problems? What the hell? Who is this pansy-ass prat and where is Draco Malfoy?_

Hermione appeared as shocked as he felt. Her mouth hung open for a moment before she started stumbling through her words. "Uh…Look, just-just because I apologized and I said we can be civil…well, that doesn't mean I want to go being your bloody friend. Got it?" Her words were harsh but their tone lacked any necessary venom to hold any semblance of a threat.

With that, she turned on her hell and bolted the rest of the way to the Great Hall, leaving Draco standing in her wake felling like a complete fool.

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><p>Upon arriving in the Great Hall, several confused minutes later, Draco inconspicuously made his way to the nearly vacant Slytherin table.<p>

"Blaise," he started as he sat next to his best friend. "Where is everyone?"

"What do you mean, mate?" Blaise looked around suddenly, not realizing who he was supposed to be looking for.

"Why are there only twenty or so Slytherins at the table?"

Draco was feeling extremely out of place, used to being surrounded by swarms of people. Blaise looked at him incredulously.

"Where were you last night?" he said suddenly. Draco's eyes darted back to Zabini's face, not sure what he meant.

"I was here, then I went to the Heads Common Room. Why?"

Blaise shook his head. "You couldn't have been paying much attention during the sorting then. Only a handful of Slytherins came back after everything that's happened. I think only…what was…maybe three first years got sorted into Slytherin. How could you not notice that?"

Draco suddenly flushed, a habit very unlike him that he was not liking, as he remembered that he, indeed, had not been paying any attention during sorting or supper last night. In fact, his thoughts had been focused on the very girl he had nightmares about and her harsh words on the train. He had been formulating exactly how he was going to apologize to her.

"Draco, did you just blush? What's going on with you?" Blaise inquired, both shocked and amused. Draco's teeth snapped together. _You've got to pull yourself together, man. You can't let them think your weak. And most of all, you can't let bloody Granger get to your head!_

"Of course I didn't blush, Zabini. Why don't you get your bloody eyes checked? And nothing's wrong with me. I just had more pressing matters on mind last night, not that I'd expect you to understand," he fumed viciously before standing abruptly and rushed out of the Hall, forfeiting breakfast for his dignity. Blaise, who was used to Draco's frequent moodswings, took no offense and merely sat back and watched his friend run off, a highly amused expression lighting his Italian features.

* * *

><p>Draco continued his rush straight into the Potions classroom, muttering under his breath the entire time. He noticed a variety of sixth and seventh year students. He was confused until he remembered that they weren't sixth year students. This was their seventh year as well. He picked an empty desk toward the front of the class. This year he would have to be attentive. After all, he had to make up for so much time lost during his sixth year. He winced as he thought of that dreadful period in his life.<p>

"Careful there, Malfoy. They say talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity. Though I'm guessing you discovered the first sign ages ago."

Draco's head popped up to see Ginny Weasley sitting at the table directly to his right. He took her words in stride. It was fairly mild, considering what he really deserved from her. He knew that her brother, one of the twins, had died during the final battle. Though he didn't deal the blow, and he had in fact changed sides at that time, he still imagined she blamed him, and rightfully so. Everyone blamed him.

She gave him a questioning glance when he didn't retaliate. She opened her mouth to say something else, but was stopped when her partner, in the form of the one and only Hermione Granger, bounced into the classroom and took her seat next to the red-headed Weaslette.

"Good morning, Ginny," she said brightly. He noticed the carefree tone of her voice and longed to hear it directed toward him. He shook his head roughly, affectively shaking the thought away. This, however caught her attention.

"Malfoy," she said, giving him a brief nod. Her tone was much icier than it had been with Ginny, but not nearly as cold as it had been earlier that morning. He grinned slightly. He was improving.

"Granger," he replied, his tone even. Ginny looked flabbergasted at their exchange. He didn't blame her. They were supposed enemies. However, as he became more and more aware of Hermione Granger, he realized there was nothing he wanted more than to change that. She was…different, and it intrigued him.


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N: So, thanks for the review. More would be nice. I'm really excited about where this story is going. I hope you all enjoy.**

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><p>Transatlanticism<p>

First Ginny was confused. Then, she was curious. She had given Hermione a meaningful look after her brief conversation with Malfoy. Hermione knew what it meant: We're going to talk later. She carefully avoided Malfoy for the rest of class, which had been hard considering his partner, Blaise, worked his damned hardest to be the center of attention. After class at ended, she rushed out of the room and out of Ginny's vision. By midday, she thought she had evaded an awkward conversation. No such luck.

"Do you really think he meant it? Do you think he's changed?"

Hermione had been expecting this, but she was rather hoping Ginny would have the tact to save her inquisition until later that evening in the common room instead of during the middle of lunch, surrounded by curious Gryffindors.

"Well, he seemed sincere. Or, at least as sincere as Malfoy can be. But it's probably just some ploy to get on my good side so he can get information or something."

Ginny looked at her thoughtfully. "Huh. So you don't trust him?"

"Of course I don't trust him!" Hermione was sure that Malfoy was the _last_ person she would ever trust.

"Well…" Ginny trailed off, then sighed and looked down at her plate. Hermione felt her anger grow. _Why is she _thinking_ about this? _

"Spit it out, Ginny," she blurted, her tone a bit snappier than she had meant.

"It's just…he _did_ fight alongside us during the final battle."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Ginny was defending Malfoy, of all people!

"Only to save himself. He'll join anyone who offers him the best chance of survival. He's a coward!"

"I know, but that's just it. What would be the point of him joining the remaining Death Eaters when Voldemort's dead? They still may be dangerous, but their chances are far worse than ours."

Ginny had her there. Pure logic, a dear old friend of Hermione's, had made a crucial point against her argument.

"And," Ginny continued, sensing Hermione's resolve wavering. "I know, and you know, just how hard it really must have been for him to switch sides and stand against his own father. You know he's not a coward, Hermione. You just don't want to let go of this grudge you've been holding against him. I'm not saying he's not a right, foul git, because he is. And he's plain mean. But we both know he's not evil. Maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt."

Hermione stared, dumbfounded. Never had she expected such mature and profound words to be spoken by Ginny Weasley in regards to Malfoy. And, Hermione realized with shame, she was right. Hermione should know better. Ginny was right, Malfoy was never evil. Mean, ignorant, and brutally cruel, yes. But not evil. Maybe she could give him a chance to prove himself a better person.

* * *

><p>It was with these thoughts in mind that she walked into Transfiguration nearly a month later. She had been perfectly 'civil' as they had agreed, but they never talked beyond a brief hello or goodbye. Her anger at everything was quickly dissipating as she observed him over the weeks. He was polite, kind even to all he encountered. Of course, that wasn't saying much since only Slytherins dared go near him. But, he was polite to her. Maybe he did deserve a little benefit of the doubt.<p>

And there he was, sitting at a desk already by himself. She looked around the room. There were still a few empty desks, and she could easily grab one for her and Ginny to share. She looked back to Malfoy. She noticed the students around him were giving him a wide berth, avoiding him like the plague. She also noticed that he didn't look upset by these actions. Instead he looked, well, accepting. Hermione unwillingly felt a rush of pity. Determinedly, albeit also reluctantly, she strode over to the desk Malfoy was occupying.

"Anyone sitting here?" she asked, already knowing the answer but trying to give him a chance to refuse her presence. He looked up at the sound of her voice, shocked by her question. He stared at her for a moment before coming to his senses.

"No, by all means," he responded as he scrambled to move his books off her side of the table. He was thoroughly confused as to what was going on. He was under the impression that she, like all the other students, would be more than happy to avoid him and leave him in solitude. They sat in silence for a while, until he couldn't control his curiosity.

"Why are you sitting by me?"

She looked up, startled. She had been lost in her own thoughts.

"I can move if you think my mudblood presence will-"

"That's not what I said. Don't put words in my mouth," he shot, cutting off her rash comment. She glared at him, then seeing he had no animosity in his stare, her eyes softened.

"You looked lonely," she finally mumbled, suddenly finding the grain of the desk fascinating. She wouldn't admit she was unable to meet those silver eyes. How were eyes even silver, anyway?

"I would've thought you preferred it that way." A deep ire burned in his voice and she chanced a glance. With one look, she could see everything. The pain, the loneliness. She could see frightened first years scrambling away from the reformed Death Eater on the train. She could see students doubling back in corridors or taking the wrong staircase just to steer clear of him. And she knew, in that moment, that she would be Draco Malfoy's friend, simply because no one else would.

"No," she whispered. "Not even you deserve that."

McGonagall walked in shortly afterwards, effectively ending the conversation. The class passed in silence, but, Hermione noted, not an uncomfortable one. They worked together easily and efficiently. Every now and then, he would give her a small smirk, and she wearily noticed that it didn't disgust her anymore.

They finished their work before anyone else, but didn't talk. They remained sitting in the almost companionable silence. When class finally ended, they gathered their things together and walked into the hallway side by side.

"Ah, Miss Granger, , just who I was looking for!"

They both spun around to see a flustered Headmistress running toward them.

"I'll need the two of you to make a patrol schedule for the Prefects. Have it to me by the end of the week," she said rushed, mostly to Hermione. Suddenly she turned to Malfoy.

"If you would follow me to my office. I have something we need to discuss." They shared a knowing look before she turned and hurried back down the hall. Malfoy looked at Hermione briefly, and she could see apprehension in his eyes.

"I guess I'll see you in the common room later," he mumbled, unsure if she would actually want to see him.

"Sure," she replied, still confused by her former Professor's odd behavior. He gave her a quick grin before rushing off after McGonagall, leaving her standing in the corridor, alone and wondering. However, she quickly shrugged it off and chalked it up to Malfoy in general being odd as of late, and then headed off toward Ancient Runes.

* * *

><p>"Ginny!"<p>

It had been too long since she had been in the Gryffindor common room, and she had missed it tremendously. She sat on her favorite couch with her red-headed best friend, her cheeks flushing a brilliant shade of pink at the subject they were discussing.

"What? You had to know it happened. We're dating. People snog in a relationship, Hermione," Ginny laughed. Hermione's face darkened from pink to red in an instant.

"I know, but he's like my brother! I don't want to hear about it," she whispered back, looking around the room to make sure no one knew of their topic.

"I listened to you go on about snogging my _actual _brother, so I think that entitles me to give you the gory details at least two more times," Ginny answered cheekily, then regretted it. Hermione's face dropped at the mention of Ron.

"I know what you're thinking, Hermione, but don't," Ginny quickly started, trying to avoid the coming waterworks. "My brother's a dolt, and we both know it. Don't go getting yourself worked up over him, he's not worth it."

"Do you think I over-reacted? Maybe I should apologize-"

"Apologize?" Ginny scoffed. "For what? Calling him out on his own bullshit? Please, if anything I think you under-reacted. I would've punched his lights out like you did Malfoy back in third year." She laughed at the image of Ron holding a bloody nose while Hermione cracked her knuckles.

"Yeah, I guess," she mumbled gloomily.

"So, uh, speaking of Malfoy, how are things with the little ferret? I heard from Pavarti you sat by him in class today," Ginny said brightly, hoping that Hermione wouldn't see her attempt at changing the subject. She did, of course, but she took the bait anyway.

"Yeah, I decided to do what you said and give him a chance," she replied. She was actually glad she had. She felt like she was doing the right thing.

"And?" Ginny prompted.

"And, it wasn't that bad. We didn't really talk, but it wasn't awkward or hostile like I was expecting it to be. I think he's really lonely," she added as an afterthought.

"See," Ginny insisted happily. "This is why you should never doubt me. I'm always right."

Hermione laughed and opened her mouth to tell Ginny just how wrong that statement was, but an owl flew in through the open window and landed in her lap, silencing her. She recognized the owl as Harry's. It was holding three parchments in its talons: one addressed to Ginny and two addressed to herself. Hermione grabbed them and quickly sent the bird on its way.

"Well," she said as she handed Ginny her letter. "I suppose I'll head back to the Head Common Room now so you can read your letter from Harry." But her words weren't even heard as Ginny had already ripped open the parchment and started pouring into it. Hermione chuckled lightly as she stood and exited her old safe haven.

She really did miss the old place. For six years it had been her home, a place where she laughed and cried with her closest friends. But now that had all changed. Her friends were no longer there, save for Ginny, and she now had a new home. She sighed deeply as she looked down at the letters in her hand. One was from Harry, she already knew, but the other was written in handwriting she clearly recognized as Ron's. She smiled. Maybe they could work this out after all. With a newfound bounce in her step, she hurried toward the seventh floor.

As Hermione walked through the portrait hole to the Heads Common Room, she noticed how chilly it was. She quickly set to work starting a fire. When it was done she glanced around the room. It really was beautiful. She could learn to like it here. As she surveyed the room, she noticed it was empty. Where was Malfoy? She hadn't seen him since he ran off after McGonagall, and that had been nearly eight hours ago. It was almost curfew, and, though she would never admit it, she was slightly worried. Deciding to read the letters as soon as she returned, she set them on the coffee table and rushed back out the door. She wasted no time getting to McGonagall's office. She entered without knocking.

"Ah, Miss Granger. To what do I owe this surprise?" McGonagall inquired abruptly, slightly miffed about the seventh year's lack of manners.

"I was wondering if you knew where Malfoy was. I haven't seen him since earlier today when you asked to speak with him. It's almost time for curfew and he hasn't returned to our quarters," Hermione asked quickly, getting to the point.

"Oh, he has permission to be back after curfew. He had some personal matters to attend to, I believe."

Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. "And you just let him go?" she asked before she could stop herself. McGonagall gave her a sharp look.

"Yes, Miss Granger. As Headmistress, it is my privilege to use my own discretion when it comes to matters such as these."

"Right, of course. I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll just be going now," Hermione apologized and turned to leave.

"Before you go," McGonagall said, causing Hermione to pause in her retreat and turn back around. "How are things thus far with ? I trust he's not giving you any trouble."

"No, ma'am. None at all. We're on…civil terms."

"Good," she smiled. "I hope you two will become friends. Don't give me that look. As I mentioned last month, there is much you don't know about ." She looked down at her copy of the _Evening Prophet_, signaling Hermione's dismissal. What had McGonagall meant by that?

Upon returning to the common room, she found it was still empty. With a sigh, she settled into her red chair and snatched her letters from the table. Nervously, she opened Ron's first.

"_Dear Hermione,"_

She chuckled slightly at his formal tone.

"_I've been thinking a lot about what you said these past few weeks. The truth is you did us both a favor by telling me off and leaving me. You did the best thing for the both of us by ending it."_

Hermione was confused. She hadn't ended things. Or had she? True, they hadn't spoken for nearly six weeks, but she had never officially broken things off.

"_I'm much better off now. Lavender has really opened my eyes to everything."_

Lavender!

"_I see now that the reason we fought so much was because you were always holding me back. Lavender explained to me that you were jealous of me. You were jealous that I got more attention in the limelight than you did. I honestly didn't expect that from you, Hermione. I thought we were better friends than that."_

_What? He's with her? And he thinks I was jealous of his fame_? She scoffed. That was the last thing she ever had an interest in.

"_She loves that I'm an auror. She just can't get enough of me. I hope that one day you can admit your jealousy and we can be friends again. Until then, I think its best we continue not to speak. _

_Ron"_

Hermione sat, stunned. She had lost Ron. She'd only been gone a month, and she already lost him to that daft bimbo. She remembered Harry's letter and tore it open. She immediately wished she had opened it first.

"_Hermione,_

_Whatever you do, please don't open Ron's letter."_

_Too late_, she thought wryly.

"_If you've already read it or still intend on reading it like I know you probably will, ignore him. He's not himself right now. I don't know what's gotten into him. You know how he is when he gets too much attention. I know he's a right prat,"_

_You got that right._

"_and I fully intend on giving him a thorough beating for the things he said to you, but please just know that when he realizes what an idiot he's been, he'll be really sorry. Just, think about forgiving him. Though I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted a relationship with him again, he still is your friend, and mine. _

_Anyway, on a lighter note, I hope all is going well with you at Hogwarts. I really miss you 'Mione. It's just not the same without you and Ginny here. I hear from you soon._

_Harry"_

She knew Harry was right, but in that moment she couldn't find it in herself to care. She had just lost her first love. She set the letters down gently, and sat in silence for a moment before the floodgates opened. All of her careful composure collapsed as she openly sobbed.

_Everything's ruined. I've lost my boyfriend, my best friend's hundreds of miles away. Everything's changed. Everything's ruined._

She could vaguely hear someone calling out her name, but she paid no noticed. She wallowed in her own misery as gut clenching sobs tore from her chest, leaving her writhing in pain. Suddenly, she felt two strong arms wrap around her form. She grew dizzy as she was lifted off her feet into the arms. She turned her face into a broad chest, still crying. She noticed how warm and comfy it was. She felt herself being deposited onto a soft surface and the arms started to leave her. She held onto them with a weak grip and let out a soft whimper. They froze, as if calculating. Then they were back and she was laying pressed up against a warm body. As her sobs died down, she could hear a deep voice murmuring soothing words. Slowly, she lost consciousness.


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N: Okay, so this is my longest chapter yet. I'm expecting at least two or three reviews. Or at least I'm hoping for some. Come on, you guys, let me know what you think. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks to everyone who reads!**

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><p>What If You?<p>

He couldn't remember the trek across the lawn from the forest to the castle ever being longer. Had it always seemed hours long? Had the castle always seemed to be further and further away with every step he took? Or was it just his current state that had the minutes passing by at a torturously slow pace.

With every step, he could feel his muscles scream in protest. He felt the throb of his arms that were now covered in rough bruises and scratches. He felt his head pounding from the multiple blows he had received. Who knew a fist could do so much damage? And, more than anything, he felt the deep, searing cuts that now marked his shirt-covered chest. He had expected no less upon returning to the manor. He knew his father would never go easy on him. It had never been in his nature to be merciful. Cruelty and hatred were all Draco had known for the majority of his childhood.

Finally, he had entered the tall castle doors. But he still had seven floors to go. The stairs were the worst. Every time he lifted his legs to ascend another step, they ached violently, threatening to give way beneath him. As he climbed, he thought of what waited for him. Against his will, his mind created a vision he had never imagined before.

He would open the portrait. There would be a warm fire crackling and the smell of tea wafting through the air. There, sitting on the couch before him, would be Hermione. She would be curled up, reading one of her many textbooks, of course. He would see her softly chewing on the end of her quill, as he had seen so many times before during class. As he entered, she would look up at him, her chocolate eyes wide and innocent. And she would smile. At him. For him.

Try as he might to banish this enticing vision away, he couldn't get the image of her brilliant smile out of his head. He had seen her smile like that before, but never at him. It was something he longed for, despite logic telling him it was forbidden. He knew he should stay away from her. Not because he thought her inferior, as others may believe. Oh no, in fact it was quite the opposite.

He knew she was so far beyond him. He knew it the second he saw her in his home all those months ago. He knew she didn't deserve that torture. And the fact that he stood there in his own fear and allowed it to happen proved to him just how unworthy he was of any form of affection from her. She was everything he wasn't. Good, virtuous, pure, kind, loving, even forgiving of someone like him. She was a dream to him, something he longed for and to be, but was out of his reach. And for good reason.

By Merlin's name he knew he was the last person on earth to deserve her. It was for this very reason he had tried so hard this past month to stay away from her. Every time he felt the need to talk to her, to see her, he squashed it. He couldn't resist the occasional greeting they shared, as it was the highlight of his day. But he had somehow refrained from anything more.

But now, that had changed. That very day she had took pity on him, and relieved him of his daily loneliness. She had said he didn't deserve to be lonely. He laughed inwardly at how wrong she was, but was grateful to her all the same. He saw now that he would not be able to resist her any longer. She was too fascinating. She intoxicated him like he couldn't believe. In just one class period she had managed to make him happier than he thought he had ever felt, and they barely even talked! He tried, in vain, to identify this feeling within him. Maybe, he thought, it was longing for a friend. He had never truly had a friend. He didn't know what it was like, but he had always craved it. He smiled. Who would've thought his deepest desire would be to befriend a muggleborn, and Hermione Granger at that!

As he climbed the last set of stairs, he vowed that he would do everything in his power to see that smile. He could stop there. He would have to stop there. Anything more would be too much to ask, but if he could just see that smile, he would be satisfied.

At last, he was at the portrait. "Fiddlesticks," he blurted out the ridiculous password Hermione had created, anxious to get inside and see if perhaps his vision could be real. However, upon entering the Common Room, he saw that his imagination had been far from reality.

There was a fire crackling, and Hermione was curled op on the couch. But those were the only similarities. There was no scent of tea, there were no textbooks in sight, and Hermione was anything but calm and quiet. He watched in horror as she sobbed openly, a piece of parchment clenched in her right fist.

"G-Granger?" he called out as he approached her cautiously. He didn't know what to do here. He never did with crying women. To be quite honest, they scared him. Should he leave her be? She might want that since they had only have a handful of cordial conversations. Should he comfort her? He doubted she would oblige to that. And even if she did, he had no idea how to go about doing that.

She didn't respond. If anything, she cried harder. She pulled her knees to her chest, curling herself into the fetal position, her sobs started increasing in frequency and strength. He pushed aside his inhibitions and ran the remaining few feet to her. He crouched down to her level and took hold of her shoulders.

"Hermione!" he barked, shaking her slightly. She didn't even look at him. Instead, she continued muttering to herself, something he had just noticed she was doing. He could vaguely make out what she was saying. He heard the words "everything ruined," and "I've lost him." He had no idea what they meant. Suddenly, he reached down and pulled her into his arms. He didn't know why he did it, he just felt it. It was as if it was instinctual. As he stood with her, he ignored his muscles screaming in pain. This was more important.

He headed up to her room, deciding at the moment that was probably the best place for her. He briefly considered going to find the Weasley girl, surely she would know what was wrong. But it was far past curfew and the Weaslette would be sleeping by now. As he ascended her staircase, she turned her face into his chest, and it seemed her cries quieted some, if only minutely. His heartbeat quickened and his breath caught as her left hand closed around his shirt. He opened her door and made it quickly to her bedside.

He went to deposit her onto her bed, but as he lifted himself back up, she clung to him. She let out a small whimper, and his heart clenched. She had no idea what she was asking, or who he even was, he was certain. But at the sound of her broken-hearted cry, he couldn't refuse her. He moved her over a little and laid down beside her. As he did so, she unknowingly maneuvered herself so she was pressed right up against him. He froze. This was far too intimate. If she only knew what was happening, he was sure she'd hex him. Any minute now, she would snap out of it. She would realize who it was she clung to, and she would scream at him. She would hit him, and curse him. Or, even worse, she would be embarrassed and never speak to him again. However, as the minutes ticked by, and her sobs continued, she didn't come out of her state. Hesitantly, he allowed himself to wrap his arms around her now still form.

"Shh," he whispered. "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay. I've got you now. I won't let anyone hurt you. It's alright, Hermione. Shh." As he kept up what he hoped were comforting words, he heard her sobs finally begin to quiet. Soon enough, he could hear her breathing even out and knew she was asleep.

What on earth had he done? He was lying in Hermione Granger's bed, holding her to him as a lover would. As this thought crossed his mind, he couldn't help but notice how extraordinarily she fit to him. He felt her every curve so deliciously pressed to his form. He could feel her warm breath against his neck, causing goose bumps to erupt over his skin. He could smell the absolutely intoxicating scent of her wafting from her hair. Why had he never done this before? He needed a distraction.

He quickly looked about her room. It was much like his, only decked in the red and gold of Gryffindor instead of the green and silver he was accustomed to. There were various pictures adorning the walls. He noticed a few in particular that held the image of two older people that didn't move. He assumed it was a muggle photograph and the couple was her parents. He noticed briefly that she looked very much like her father. One of the moving, wizard photos contained the beauty in his arms along with Potter and Weasley. She was smiling that smile. The one that held so much happiness and warmth it made his heart swell. He felt a pang of jealousy that it was for those two dunderheads and not for him. He looked away and saw assorted knick-knacks here and there. Over by her window was a desk covered in textbooks, parchment, quills, and ink wells. He chuckled lightly. It was so…Hermione. The room fit her well.

He looked down at her and could see tearstains on her cheeks. For the first time, he wondered why she had been crying. He had been so concerned with helping her, he hadn't even thought of what was causing her such distress. What could it be? He knew it had to be important. Hermione was not one of those blubbering bimbos he had known in Slytherin house. She had fought against the Dark Lord. She had lost so many near to her. She had survived. She was a fighter, and braver than anyone he knew. What could have weakened her so much? He caught a glimpse of the parchment still loosely clutched in her right hand. It was a letter, he realized. What did it contain? Had someone died? It would make sense, considering her mutterings of losing someone earlier. Against his better judgment, he gingerly pried it from her hand, careful not to wake her.

As he read it, his head spun. So, the Weasel had left her. But it didn't make sense. Hermione wasn't the kind of girl to shed tears for a boy. She was much stronger than that. There had to be more to it, he was sure. Maybe he could ask her in the morning. He doubted she would confide in him, but he would try.

But he couldn't help but feel absolute rage at that red-headed oaf for leaving her. And for someone as stupid as the Gryffindor slut. Was he blind? Did he not see how good he had it? He had the most kind and loving girl in all of Europe, and he gave her up for some common whore. And he thought her jealous of his fame? He clearly did not know Hermione at all after their seven years of friendship. Draco had only spent a month with her now, and they weren't even friends. Still, even he knew that fame was the last thing she wanted. She preferred the quiet, the serenity. Ron Weasley was without a doubt the most idiotic prat he had ever had the displeasure of knowing. Any man would be lucky to have Hermione!

Slowly, his anger died down. He looked once again at the sleeping angel in his arms, and realized how incredibly lucky _he_ was just for this moment. He stayed awake as long as he could, knowing it would end all too soon once she awakened. He lifted his hand to her face and delicately ran his fingers across her cheekbone. Her skin was so smooth, soft as silk, he thought. And as his hand caressed her jaw, he felt sleep finally overtake him.

* * *

><p>He saw it all from the outside. He could see his sleeping form holding Hermione. It was like he was having an out of body experience. A small smile lit her face in her sleep and his heart soared. She felt comfortable with him. Before he could think more on it, though, a figure emerged from the dark shadows of her room. The hooded figure moved toward the girl, wand held high and aimed at her.<p>

"No!" he screamed, but he couldn't hear his own voice. He tried to move, but he was immobilized. He simply had to watch in horror as the figure pulled back its hood. Black, crazy hair swam into his vision.

"No. You're dead! Leave her alone! Stop it!" he yelled at his deceased aunt. She turned to him, as if only now realizing his actual presence outside his body.

"Hello, nephew. What a shame it is to catch you like this," she seethed, pointing at his body which held Hermione's. "What have you been doing, Draco? Consorting with Mudbloods? Absolutely despicable. No matter, I'll soon put an end to your little…friend here."

"No, please no," he begged.

"Don't be such a blood-traitor, Draco. It will all be over soon. I do think I'll have a little fun with her first though. As I remember it, I do love to hear this one scream. _Crucio."_

"NO!"

"Malfoy!"

He was drenched in sweat again. It was just a dream. Thank Merlin, it was just a dream. He turned, and saw Hermione staring at him with confused and concerned eyes. Oh bless her, she was concerned about him.

"Hermione!" He grabbed her into a fierce hug. He felt her freeze beneath him, but didn't care. She was safe, and that's all that mattered. "It was just a dream. Just a stupid dream. Thank Merlin," he mumbled his thoughts aloud into her hair.

He felt her arms wrap around him and awkwardly pat his back. "Uh…it's okay?" she mumbled.

He laughed and pulled back, grabbing her face between his palms. "You're alright," he said joyously.

"Of course I'm alright, you oaf."

It was meant to be an insult, but he could hear her teasing tone, and he could see curious amusement in her eyes.

"Right, of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I just…uh." How could he explain it to her? I just had a nightmare that my deceased, crazed aunt tortured you and then intended on killing you for the sole reason that I care about you deeply? Yes, that would go over well. He would be lucky to make it out of the room without having his balls hexed off.

"You had a nightmare," she finished for him.

"Well, yes," he admitted. Why did he feel so small beneath her gaze?

"Right, well, I'm sorry about that and all, but can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he answered immediately, and a little more abruptly than he would've liked. She looked at him curiously before continuing.

"What in the bloody hell are doing in my bed?"

He froze. Right. How to explain this?

"Well, um…." He trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

"Malfoy," she uttered menacingly.

"Okay, just let me explain. And promise me that you won't hex me." Oh crap, that didn't sound good.

"Malfoy! What did you do?" Her scream was enough to make him jump. Suddenly, he lost his balance and found himself on the floor staring up at her.

"Nothing! Just please let me explain," he begged, putting his hands up in surrender.

"Fine. Explain!"

"When I got in last night, well, I found you crying in the Common Room." Her face paled. It seemed she just now remembered the events of last night. He stood up now at her level and continued, if only to keep her from thinking on it too long.

"I tried to call out to you but you weren't responding. So, I carried you up here so you could at least be in your own room. But when I tried to lay you down, well, you um…see, the thing is-"

"I what?" she asked, and he noticed for the first time her voice was nervous.

"You wouldn't let me go," he whispered, waiting for her reaction. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open in shock. Her eyes shot to the ground as a brilliant blush formed across her cheeks.

"I…oh. I see," she mumbled embarrassedly. "I um…I'm so sorry. I assure you had I known, I wouldn't have, uh, inconvenienced you like that. I apol-"

"Granger, would you just stop?" She looked up at him questioningly. "Don't apologize for crying. And if I didn't want to help you I would've left you in the Common Room. Not that I ever could have done that," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"But, you…I thought…" her voice trailed off and she stared up at him intensely. He found himself again squirming under her penetrating gaze. "You really have changed, haven't you?" she breathed. He could only nod, not trusting himself to speak. "Wow. Well then, I…I suppose I should thank you-"

"Don't thank me. Not for that," he spoke, cutting her off. "Never for that."

She looked shocked again. He couldn't blame her. How often did you wake up in the arms of your supposed enemy and learned they care about you? Though, he suspected she didn't actually know he cared for her, at least not to the extent he truly did.

"Right. Well…Malfoy, what happened to you?"

He looked down at himself, wondering what she meant. He saw his tattered shirt covered in his own blood, the scratches and bruises adorning his skin wherever visible. For the first time that morning, he remember just what had happened to _him_ the previous night.

"Oh, um, that. It's nothing-"

"Malfoy, that isn't nothing." She jumped off the bed and immediately started checking over his wounds. She delicately touched a particularly nasty cut on his left cheek and he hissed in pain. He could feel the pain everywhere now. How had he not felt that earlier?

"Malfoy…you look like you've been beaten nearly to death," she whispered sadly. He hissed again as her fingertips ran across his collarbone, but this time not in pain. Her touch was so light, yet it set fire to his skin wherever it went. Suddenly, he felt her hands start to unbutton his shirt. His eyes shot open. He hadn't even realized he had closed them.

"W-what are you doing?" he stuttered as he jumped away from her.

"I have to heal your wounds," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Look, Granger, you don't have to do that. I can take care of myself," he shot. He was trying to scare her away. Truth was, he was far too nervous around her, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Obviously not, or you wouldn't look like this," she shot right back, gesturing at his beaten appearance. He tried to glare at her, but found he couldn't put enough force behind it. Her eyes softened.

"Look, you've already lost too much blood. Besides, I want to help you too," she said sincerely. Oh no, she was doing that thing where she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. He was a goner.

"Fine," he grumbled. He reached down and started unbuttoning his shirt himself, ignoring how his arms shrieked in pain. There was no way he was going to let her undress him. He was sure he'd be unable to control himself-_Whoa where did that come from? She's your friend, sort of. _Just_ a friend. Leave the poor girl alone._

He noticed her eyes widen, then run appreciatively over his bare chest. His pride swelled inside, but he fought back the arrogant smirk and comment resting on his lips. No need to make her hate him again.

She reached for her wand, which had been sitting on her nightstand, and began murmuring healing spells. He watched, entranced as she guided her wand over his marred flesh. He watched as each cut and scratch and bruise slowly faded until his skin was smooth once again. There weren't even scars, save for the few he already had. When she was done, she gently ran her hand across one just above where his heart rested, and he sighed.

"I got that one my first Christmas back home from Hogwarts. Father wasn't too pleased to hear I was second in my class to a muggleborn," he laughed darkly, silently cursing the wretched man. He had no clue why he was telling her that. He had never told anyone, not even Blaise who was the closest thing he ever had to a friend. But looking at her, already feeling so vulnerable, the words just came tumbling out.

She looked up at him in disgust. "Your father did that to you?" Again, he could only nod. Recognition flashed in her eyes. "Last night, McGonagall said you were tending to personal matters. You went home, didn't you? He beat you last night."

He didn't even nod this time. She already knew she was right. He gingerly raised his hand up to her face. So softly, he ran his fingertips across her cheek like he had the previous night. He reveled at the fact that she involuntarily leaned into his hand. "I shouldn't be telling you this," he whispered.

"I'm glad you are." She was so close. He could see every one of her eyelashes. He could count every freckle painted across her nose. He could practically feel her lips, soft and plump against his. He shook his head lightly. Now wasn't the time. She was in pain, vulnerable as he. Speaking of…

"Granger," he said, using her surname to snap them out of their daze. "Why _were_ you crying last night?"

She blushed and removed her hand from his chest. He instantly missed the warmth, but pushed the feeling aside.

"Oh, I um got a letter from Ron-"

"I read the letter," he blurted unthinkingly. Violating her privacy certainly wasn't going to help him get on her good side.

"You what?" her eyes flashed angrily. Oh, if only she knew how beautiful she was right in that instant. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to grab her into his arms and throw her down on the bed-_Stop that!_

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried, I know," he said apologetically, looking down in shame. He heard her huff and knew he would be forgiven.

"If you already read the letter then why did you ask?" she questioned, her voice much softer.

"Well because that can't be it. You're not the type to cry over some stupid bloke, who doesn't even deserve you by the way. There's something else," he spoke honestly. He had to know. Somehow he thought, if only he knew, he could fix it. He could stop her pain. He would do almost anything to never see her like that again.

"I'm not the type? You don't know the first thing about me! Don't pretend to act like you care about my wellbeing all of a sudden. We're not even friends," she shouted at him defensively. His jaw snapped shut as her words cut him like a knife. It was true. He didn't truly know her. And, as she had so harshly pointed out, they weren't friends. That was something he realized he could only dream of.

"You're right, we're not," he murmured dejectedly. He noticed remorse cross her face, but he didn't deserve it. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. It won't happen again."

He quickly gathered his shirt and fled the room. He didn't stop till he was locked inside his own.

* * *

><p>Three more weeks had passed. They hadn't spoken at all. She didn't sit by him in class. He didn't wait up for her in the Common Room. They had a silent agreement: avoid each other at all costs. It pained him for it to be so. After having a taste of what it was to know her, all he wanted was more. But, he knew it was better this way.<p>

He continued his now weekly "personal" visits. Luckily, he had yet to come back harmed, though he knew it was only a matter of time before he was beaten again. This was why it was better he stayed away from her. He would only endanger her. Because his "personal" matters weren't personal at all. They were missions. Missions of such security she would be killed if she knew. He regretted every time he had to leave the castle to go to that dreaded manor and take part in obscene tasks. But, it was necessary. He had to get back on father's good side. What he was involved in held no place for her. It was best he stay away.

At least, that's what he told himself. He knew it was true, he did. But he couldn't help the ache he had for her. He knew she could break him. Thankfully, he also knew she wouldn't. She was safe so long as _she_ stayed away from _him_ because in all honesty, he knew he wouldn't have the strength to stay away from her.

It was the first day of December, a Saturday, and the winter weather had just set in. Snow drifted through the castle windows in the corridors. Icicles hung precariously from the outside doorways. The grounds were blanketed in a sheet of white. For the first time in his life, he could look at it and honestly see it for it's beauty.

It was late in the day when it happened. He was sitting in his own room, a courtesy he paid her. He had let her be close to the library for a reason. He wasn't going to have her avoid it because he was too proud to leave her be. So, he had retreated to the solitude he had become accustomed to. It was true, now the only person willing to talk to him was Blaise. He realized, in those weeks, that Blaise actually could be a good friend. He was kind, and loyal. He was one of the few Slytherins who had never held much stock in the whole blood purity nonsense. If only Draco felt like opening up to him and letting him in. Instead, he had been withdrawn and sullen as usual.

Suddenly, a rapid knocking on his door brought him out of his reverie. Confused, he swiftly went to open it. On the other side was none other than the girl who haunted his thoughts and his dreams. Her hand was still raised from knocking. She dropped it awkwardly and looked down.

"Granger," he greeted, his tone to soft for his liking.

"Can I come in?" she muttered, still not meeting his eyes. He stepped aside and allowed her to enter. She walked in quickly and went to his window, keeping her back to him. Abruptly she turned.

"What is this about?" he asked the same time she blurted, "I'm sorry."

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded. What on earth did she have to be sorry about?

"I said I'm sorry. That day, in my room, I shouldn't have been so rude to you," she said. He looked at her with surprise. She felt guilty?

"Granger, you have nothing to be sorry for. You were right-"

"No, I wasn't," she stated firmly. She sighed deeply before continuing. "Look, I know what you've done. But I've also come to realize that you obviously regret it. Since the moment we arrived here, I've held a grudge against you. However, you've proven to be nothing but kind and understanding, even when I'm completely rude to you. You, of all people, were there for me when my own friends couldn't be. And because of my own stupid pride, I was still short with you. You've done nothing but show that you've changed. I'm sorry to have been cruel, and I hope I am not too late to gain your friendship."

Did he hear her right? Had this not been exactly what he had been praying for every night? She truly was an angel sent to him from heaven. He could only stare at her. This couldn't be real. She was playing a cruel joke on him, which he would deserve. Or maybe he was dreaming, only this time it was pleasant. As he looked upon her, he saw her start to shift around nervously.

"Um, Malfoy? I kind of just swallowed all my pride there. Could you at least answer?" she mumbled shyly.

"I would love nothing more than to be your friend," he finally answered, his face lighting up in a grin. Slowly, he watched as her lips tugged upward into a gentle, somewhat shy smile. It wasn't the one he had been pining for, but it was a smile all the same. And it was for him.

"Great," she responded brightly. She stood there for another moment, then looked around awkwardly.

"I uh, I guess I'll go now," she giggled nervously. "I-I'll see you later?"

"You will," he answered. And she would.


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N: So, here is the new chapter. Thanks for the reviews. More would be very welcome. Please! Anyway, I hope you enjoy the latest addition.**

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><p>I Have Seen Your Wide Eyes Tonight<p>

Had Christmas really come so soon? Hermione reveled in the spirit of the season as she walked back across the snowy lawn from Hagrid's hut. Two more weeks had passed since she had become friends with Malfoy. The thought alone still never ceased to shock her. It was taken in the same respect by every other being at Hogwarts. She could even now recall the startled looks of her fellow Gryffindors when she sat by him in every class. It was still all so mind-rattling. However, she couldn't bring herself to think it was wrong. Part of her was ashamed at the fact that she wasn't disgusted by Malfoy, by the fact that she wasn't ashamed at all. And the other part, the overwhelming part, felt that their friendship was just so right. She felt as if they had always been friends, like all the years of torment had never happened.

"Hermione!"

She looked up and saw the slim redhead rushing to her.

"Hey, Ginny," she mumbled, shivering from the cold.

"Hey. Been out to visit Hagrid, I see?" Hermione nodded her response. "How is he?"

"He's well. He's going to see Madame Maxime over the holidays, so he's overly excited of course," Hermione told her friend. She was glad to see Hagrid so happy, but it only served to remind her that she was alone. It seemed everyone had someone for the holidays. Ginny had Harry, Hagrid had the Headmistress of Beauxbaton, Ron had Lavender… but she had no one.

"Oh, how wonderful! They are so adorable. Speaking of visiting on the holidays, we're leaving for the Burrow tomorrow. Have you packed yet? Oh, who am I kidding, of course you have. I haven't. I suppose I should do-"

"I'm not going." The words were out of Hermione's mouth before she knew she was thinking them. In fact, she _had_ been planning on accompanying Ginny to the Burrow, and indeed her things were packed. However, she suddenly realized it was the last place she wanted to be this Christmas.

"What? Why? Oh Hermione, come on. Don't let Ronald get to you. Look, if Lavender even breathes a word to you, I'll hex her, okay?"

"No, it's alright," Hermione laughed lightly. "I want to stay here. It's not Ron, I swear." Ginny gave her a hard glare. "Okay, it's not _only_ Ron. I really want to do this. Okay?"

Ginny looked at her uncertainly, but then nodded. "If that's really what you want, then I won't stop you. I will miss you, though. Christmas won't be the same."

Hermione just smiled sadly in response as they continued their way to the castle doors in silence.

* * *

><p>Hermione entered the Common Room feeling as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She hadn't realized how much she had been dreading the holidays. She felt bad that she wouldn't get to see Harry, whom she missed terribly, but she thought it was about time she did something for herself. She would see him soon enough, after all. And she had been truthful when she told Ginny Ron wasn't the real reason. In fact, over the weeks she found herself thinking less and less of the slimy git.<p>

"Any particular reason you look so happy there, Granger?"

She whirled around to see Malfoy sitting on the sofa in front of the fire. His feet were up on the table as he lounged, his tie was loose around his neck, and his hair was tousled deliciously. He was the embodiment of tranquility. She shook her head slightly as her eyes started to rake over his body, walking over and plopping down beside him.

"I'm not going to the Burrow," she said, smiling brightly. His brow furrowed and he gave her a disapproving look.

"You can't just avoid him," he countered. She stiffened. They had been getting on quite well, of course, but they had yet to talk about something so personal. He noticed her tense form and immediately was regretful.

"I'm sorry, that's not my place to say. I've over-stepped my boundaries," he hastily apologized.

"No," she quickly stopped his rambling. He glanced at her, disbelieving. "It's okay. I…I think I'd like to talk about it, of that's okay with you, of course."

She gave him a pleading look, and was thoroughly surprised by his reaction. He gazed into her eyes, his expression so very serious. "You can tell me anything. I won't judge you. And if you want to stop talking about it, we'll stop. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but you always can."

It took her a moment to reply. Who would have ever thought that Draco Malfoy, her long time enemy and tormenter, could be more supportive and understanding than either of her best friends?

"Thank you," she said sincerely. They shared a glance. It was so much like that one in Transfiguration, the day she first sat by him. She could see everything in those normally guarded eyes. She could see comfort, compassion, and most of all, longing. But for what, she didn't know. She looked away, scared of the feelings his expressive eyes evoked in her.

"I know you probably won't believe me," she began, in an attempt to clear her suddenly fuzzy brain. "But I'm not staying here to get away from him. I…I wouldn't necessarily say I'm over what happened, but I've come to terms with it."

"Are you sure? I know you cared deeply for him." If she wasn't mistaken, his tone held a small bit of bitterness.

"See, that's the thing. I cared for him as a friend, and I think I was in love with the idea of what we could be. But, in reality, I don't think I ever truly loved him. I just always felt like I was supposed to, and so I fell into it. I went along with what everyone else expected and didn't think a thing of it. But now, I see how stupid I was. It was never right with him, there was always something…off."

He didn't believe a word she said. She knew he wouldn't, and she could see it in his eyes. "Hermione, when I found you that night…well, it was awful," he said, pained. "You were a wreck. You can't tell me that you're just okay with it now."

"Honestly, I am. Wait, let me finish," she added, seeing he was about to speak. He closed his mouth and nodded, his eyes hard. "That night, it was like everything I had been feeling for the past year erupted. Ron was just the final straw. I was hurt, but not because I loved him. It was because I was betrayed by someone who I trusted, someone who was supposed to be my friend above all else. It was the last piece of the puzzle taken away. And all of a sudden, everything was rushing to me. The war, death, pain, losing Ron, losing Harry, being alone…everything was changing and I couldn't stop it. All I-I thought I knew was a lie suddenly. In fact, t-that was why I was so reluctant to your friendship in the b-beginning. You were just one more thing I thought was a c-constant in my w-world that had changed."

She noticed, as she stopped rambling, that she had begun to cry, and that at some point, Malfoy had pulled her into a gentle hug.

"Shh. It's okay. Change isn't an easy thing to go through. Believe me, I know," he chuckled lightly. She pulled back a little and looked up into his eyes.

"You must think I'm such a whimp," she mumbled, but there was humor in her voice.

"Never," he muttered, with that conviction that shook her to her core. Ever so lightly, his hand lifted up to graze the side of her face. She felt a fire burn her skin wherever it made contact with his.

She looked away, embarrassed. This was not normal. This was too intimate, too real, too…wonderful. She shouldn't be having these thoughts for Malfoy of all people. Their friendship was far enough of a stretch.

"Right," she mumbled somewhat awkwardly. "Well, um…thanks, really. I needed to talk to someone, especially someone who wasn't biased."

"Anytime."

They sat in a comfortable silence until Hermione realized just how close they were. He was still holding her, and it felt all too good. His body was _not_ supposed to form to hers so well. She jumped up quickly, startling him.

"Well, I think I'll head to bed. Um…will I see you tomorrow, or will you be leaving on the early train?" Part of her wanted him to be leaving early so she could avoid the suddenly awkward feelings she possessed. The other part of her, the part of her causing the awkwardness, was hoping he would never leave her sight.

"I'm not leaving. I'm staying here as well," he answered, confused by her sudden jumpiness, and even more so by the way her eyes widened as he said this.

"Oh, well, great," she said, trying to sound enthusiastic and forcing a smile, but he wasn't fooled.

"Granger-"

"Well, goodnight," she rushed, cutting him off before bolting up the stairs to her room. She slammed the door closed, then leaned against it, panting. What on earth was going on with her?

* * *

><p>"And you're absolutely certain that you don't want to come along?"<p>

Hermione just chuckled as Ginny pleaded with her for the millionth time to join her on the trip back to the Burrow.

"Yes, I'm certain." In fact, she had awoken feeling quite uncertain. She knew she didn't want to go to the Burrow. However, she had no idea how she was going to get through the next three weeks alone with Malfoy and her newfound awkwardness. Everything she had told Malfoy of her reasons for staying were still true. But she just didn't know how to handle him. Still, she was staying. She was a Gryffindor, after all, and Gryffindors didn't run away from uncomfortable situations. She had survived the war, so, she reasoned, she could survive an awkward few weeks with Malfoy.

"Well, if you're sure…" the redhead trailed off as the train whistled loudly.

"I am! Now hurry up before you miss the train. Give Harry and Molly my love," Hermione said as she physically had to push Ginny to the platform.

As Ginny waved from the window of her compartment as the train sped away, Hermione wondered if she had made the right decision. She sighed deeply and turned to head back to the castle. She caught a glimpse of silvery blonde hair. Upon further inspection, she realized Malfoy had come to see Blaise off. As if sensing her gaze, he turned to look at her. Their eyes locked, and as he gave her one of those rare, true smiles, she knew she had chosen right.

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><p>"Granger, you're going to catch your death if you don't come inside."<p>

She rolled her eyes and continued to make her snow angel. After sitting inside for nearly four full days, Hermione decided it was time for some fresh air. Malfoy, as it turned out, was a worry-wart. Having the choice between joining her and staying in alone, he had of course chosen to accompany her. That didn't stop his complaints, though. Ever since they had arrived outside on the grounds, he had constantly fretted about her catching a cold. She thought he was being utterly ridiculous.

"Malfoy, stop acting like my mother." He gave her a shocked look before pulling a face at her. She only giggled in response.

"Seriously. You're just being plain silly. I'm fine, Malfoy. Believe it or not, I'm quite capable of spending some time outside without automatically dying from hypothermia. Loosen up, would you?"

She regretted her words when she saw a mischievous smile pass his lips. He slowly bent to gather some snow in his hand. She hopped up and started to back away as he rolled it into a snowball.

"Well, if you insist," he smirked, throwing the ball of wet snow before she could duck behind a tree. She gasped as it hit her square in the face. She wiped the offensive liquid from her face, giving him a hard glare.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" He continued to ramble an apology, not noticing as she bent down to gather some more snow.

"Oh, you're dead Malfoy," she said, with obvious mirth in her voice. His eyes went wide and she threw the snowball straight at his face. He, however, was quicker and ducked away just in time. _Damn Seeker reflexes._

A full on war had started. They continued to toss snow back and forth, using trees and shrubs as shields as they moved across the lawn. Not too much later, Hermione found herself trapped between two large trees and a stone wall.

"Ready to surrender, Granger?" he laughed. She briefly recognized the beautiful quality of his voice before indignation rose within her.

"Never," she hissed. He only laughed again as he drew closer to her. She glanced about her again, looking for any way out. There was only one option. In a move that surprised both her and Malfoy, she rushed forward and slammed against him with as much force as she could muster, affectively tackling him to the ground.

She smirked down at his speechless form. She did her best to ignore how she every crevice of her body was pressed against his. "I never give up," she whispered playfully. He stared at her with an unfathomable expression before giving her his own smirk. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation. Suddenly, he flipped them over so he was straddling her in the snow.

"Neither do I. You know, that was a pretty Slytherin move of you. Who knew you were so sneaky?" he murmured, his breath coming out as a white puff in the wintry air. She didn't know whether her sudden goosebumps were a result of the snow now pressed against her back or the way his eyes were growing darker and darker as he looked down on her. Slowly, his hand came up to ghost across her face and she shivered. He started to lean forward, his face getting closer and closer to her own. No! She wasn't ready for this. But she wanted it so badly, and his lips looked so soft. Without thinking, she grabbed a fistful of snow and shoved it in his face. He froze in shock, long enough for her to escape from under him, but not before she bent to whisper in his ear, "I win."

She ran off, giggling. On the inside, her mind was reeling. She had almost kissed _Malfoy_! Correction, he had almost kissed her. What was he thinking!

* * *

><p>Christmas Eve found them sprawled across the couch in the common room after one too many cups off eggnog.<p>

"I can't believe Blaise said that!" Hermione squealed.

"Oh believe it. He is first and foremost a male," Malfoy laughed at his best friends antics.

"He's nearly as awful as Ginny," Hermione said, then blushed.

"What? The Weaslette-"

"She has a name, Malfoy," Hermione muttered, far too tipsy to be angry.

"Right, sorry. But are you saying that _Ginny_ has a foul mouth?"

"Oh Heavens yes. You don't even want to know the stories she's told me about her and Harry," Hermione groaned. She hated even thinking about them. There were certain things she didn't want to know about either of her best friends.

"You're very right there. I have no desire to know what Potter-er Harry does in his free time with his girlfriend," he corrected, seeing her half-hearted glare.

"I agree. Unfortunately that doesn't stop her from telling me every gruesome detail."

They laughed together. After a moment, she thought she saw anger pass his features, but it was gone in a flash and replaced with what seemed like curiosity.

"So, Granger. What about you?"

She looked at him in confusion. "What about me?"

"Did you and Weasley ever…" he trailed off as she smacked in the face with a couch cushion.

"That's none of your business," she growled, her entire body red from head to toe.

"He was that bad, huh?" Malfoy laughed, but there was a clear tone of jealousy in his voice that she did not recognize. She let out a frustrated cry and, if possible, became redder.

"If you must know, we never did anything of the sort. I'm not like your little harlots that you used to go around with," she shot defensively. It was his turn to look confused.

"What do you mean 'like my harlots?' What harlots?"

"Well, you know. Back before everything happened, all those girls you were with. You had quite the reputation, you know."

His eyes widened before he laughed loudly.

"What? What's so damn funny about your promiscuity?" she demanded angrily. She already felt embarrassed and it was only getting worse.

"The fact that it's non-existent. I don't know how you heard about my so called 'reputation' because I have never been promiscuous," he answered, still laughing slightly.

"But…I just thought…" she trailed off helplessly. All the rumors she heard weren't true? She nearly smacked herself right then. Of course they weren't true. They were rumors! The only reason she ever believed them was because at the time she was willing to believe anything that made Malfoy seem like such a prick.

"They're just rumors, Granger. In fact," he became nervous for a reason she didn't understand. "I've actually never even been with a girl."

"What?" She was flabbergasted. "But what about fifth and sixth year? You're supposed to be the Slytherin Sex God or some nonsense like that!"

"Ha! Oh that's rich. I swear, I think Slytherins will say just about anything to make their house look better." He chuckled softly at her shocked face and pulled her into an embrace as he laid back on the couch. "And to answer your question, well, I was a little preoccupied during fifth and sixth years to be worrying about hormones," he said, his voice serious now.

"I'm sorry, I didn't even think about that," she whispered, feeling awkward in their new position. He seemed fairly comfortable, though, so she relaxed into his arms.

"It's okay." They slipped into a comfortable silence. Just as Hermione was about to drift off, she felt a warm hand grab her chin. Her face was pushed upward so she was staring directly at Malfoy, his face mere centimeters from hers. Before she could even dwell on this fact, he suddenly closed the distance and placed his lips on hers. His lips were soft and gentle, yet warm in a way that sent a fire throughout her body. And then he pulled away. Seeing the question in her eyes, he pointed upward and said, "Mistletoe."

She looked up and saw the parasite looming straight above them. She looked back down and into his eyes. They were a molten silver, and, like on a few occasions before, she felt like she could see every emotion swimming in those eyes. "Merry Christmas, Hermione."

He released her chin as he laid back his head and closed his eyes. She rested her face against his chest and murmured a soft, "Merry Christmas," before sleep enveloped her.


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N: So, new chapter. Sorry it's been so long since I updated. You know, more reviews might encourage me to update faster in the future. Just a thought ;) Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter since it took forever.**

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><p>Skinny Love<p>

Draco was warm. So very very warm. And comfortable, now that he thought about it. There was an intoxicating scent surrounding him, and he basked in it. He realized that something or, rather, someone was lying in his arms. He need not open his eyes. He knew who she was. She was a frequent star in his dreams. He assumed this was a dream, for she would never knowingly allow him to hold her like this. The only time he had held her was that night, and she was definitely clueless as to what was going on. He could feel every crevice of her body against him. He could hear her deep breaths. He could feel them as they fanned out across his chest and her heartbeat against his own. So, his eyes remained shut, wanting to keep himself in this glorious dream as long as possible. He hoped, briefly, that this would stay a dream and not become a nightmare as it so often did.

There was a faint whirring noise somewhere to his left, as if a fire was raging beside him. Somehow knowing that a fireplace was next to him, he recognized the sound as someone arriving by floo. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable start of his nightmare. Someone, most likely Bellatrix or his father, who had become more usual as of late, would rip the sleeping angel from his arms and proceed to torture her while he was forced to watch.

He waited. And waited. But nothing moved. He heard the fireplace whirl again as another arrived. He heard a soft, feminine gasp. Silence, then…

"Well, now I know why she wanted to stay here so badly," he heard the female whisper slyly. He knew that voice. Where was it he had heard it? She almost sounded like-

"Ginny, what the bloody hell is going on?"

_Potter?_ What the bloody hell was going on, indeed? Why was he dreaming of Potter and the Weaslette?

"Harry, keep your voice down. You'll wake them."

"Good! I'd love to hear Malfoy explain this. What in the name of Merlin did he do to her?"

What? He didn't do anything to Hermione. She fell asleep on him-wait. She fell asleep on him, last night in the common room. They had too much eggnog and they passed out on the couch, but not before he kissed her. Dear Merlin, he kissed her! This wasn't a dream. Holy-

"Harry, shh. He didn't do anything, and you know it. I told you they were friends now. Although, this looks a little more than friendly, I'll admit."

His eyes wrenched open as he took in the scene in front of him. Hermione was sprawled across him, clinging to him in a manner that indeed looked more than friendly. His arms were wrapped tightly around her small frame. She truly looked like an angel, her eyes closed and searching the heavens as she dreamed. He looked up, and saw his own living nightmare.

Potter and the redhead were standing above him. His childhood enemy was glaring down at him, a look of shock and curiosity plastered on his face. At least Draco saw no hatred. Ginny (she had just defended him, so he should at least use her name) was staring down in amusement, a small smirk on her lips.

Draco, reluctantly, shook the goddess in his arms. "Hermione, I think you should wake up now," he muttered to her, his voice still groggy with sleep.

"Mmm, no. Go back to sleep," she mumbled as she buried her face into his chest. She squirmed slightly and his breath caught in his throat as she rubbed against him. This was certainly not helping the situation.

"Hermione, you really need to wake up," he bit out, his voice a little higher. He heard Ginny giggle and Hermione stiffened at the noise.

"By all means, don't let us disturb you," Ginny said, her amusement now evident. Though Draco was grateful that she was, for whatever reason, not lashing out at him, he was annoyed that she found humor in his embarrassment.

Hermione shot up at the sound of her friend's voice, nearly falling off the couch in the process. Draco caught her around the waist to steady her. She quickly pulled away and stood facing her friends.

"Harry, Ginny…um. What are you doing here?" she blabbered nervously. Draco rose to stand behind her at a careful distance.

"Well, _we_ merely wanted to visit our lonely friend on Christmas. Although, it appears you aren't that lonely after all," Ginny smirked. Hermione blushed red as she stammered to find words.

"This isn't what you think," Draco spoke for her. "We had a bit of eggnog last night and just fell asleep on the couch. That's all, I assure you."

Potter merely raised an eyebrow, but still made no move to speak. It made Draco nervous, like any sudden movement would trigger the beast to erupt.

Ginny laughed sardonically. "Oh, of course. Hermione?"

The girl in question glanced up to the redhead, her face still bright red. Draco began to wonder if it would ever return to its normal color. She squeaked in response.

"How about you and I go upstairs so you can, er, change…" Ginny trailed off as she looked Hermione up and down. Draco did as well and noticed she was still in her day clothes from yesterday. Draco's heart fell into his stomach. Alone….with Potter…who surely wanted nothing more than to kill him slowly and torturously? He gulped.

"Right!" the brunette yelped before all but running up to her room, oblivious to her blonde companion's plight. Ginny followed, but not before giving Draco a knowing smile.

The wall was suddenly highly interesting, or at least Draco made it seem that way with the way he glared at it. He was determined to look at every possible surface other than Potter's face, which he was sure held a look of disgust.

"The wall isn't going to help you, Malfoy."

_Damn._

"I wasn't exactly expecting it to, Potter," Draco replied. He may call him Harry for Hermione's sake, but no matter how friendly he would always be Potter. Potter's eyes widened when he realized there was no malice in his voice. Instead, there was embarrassed acknowledgment.

"Hermione's told me in her letters that you've been civil this year. Friendly even," Potter continued, his face becoming suspicious. _Here it goes_, Draco thought glumly. _Let the inquisition begin._

"Yes, I suppose I have been. She has…recently, been the same." Extremely recently. As in over the past few weeks. Still, that was more than he ever deserved, he knew.

"What are you playing at?" Potter asked, his voice surprisingly more curious than venomous. Draco glanced up, not even realizing he had looked away, and gave him a hard glare.

"Absolutely nothing. I know this may be hard for you to believe, but I'm actually quite sincere when I say that I hold no animosity for Her-Granger, yourself, or the Weaslette. Weasel on the other hand, I would love to crush into the ground, but not for the reasons you think. I know I've been a complete ass in the past and you have no valid reason to believe me. I hope you would, though. I…I'm sorry. For everything I have ever done to you and to her. I truly am. I was an idiot and a coward."

Silence followed his admission. He never lets his steel gray eyes stray from Potter's blazing green ones, his practically begging the other's for forgiveness or, at the very least, acceptance.

"I'm most likely going against my better judgment here, but I believe you," Potter said, brusquely thrusting his hand forward. Draco grasped it, stuck in a state of wondering bewilderment as they shook hands. He couldn't keep in the smile of gratitude at his old childhood enemy's generosity. "This doesn't mean I like you. But seeing as you seem to get on well with Ginny and Hermione, I suppose I could be friendly as well. Speaking of Hermione…what exactly was going on when we got here?"

Draco flushed. "Nothing," he blurted. Potter raised an eyebrow again, and Draco was surprised to see a smirk similar to Ginny's taunting one appear on his lips.

"It didn't look like _nothing_."

Draco merely flushed darker. Damnit! This was Potter. He shouldn't be acting like some shy little first year.

"Come on, Malfoy. I saw the way you were looking at her. Same way I look at Ginny. You might be able to hide it from her, but you can't from me. And you certainly can't from Ginny. All she's been talking about since she got to the Burrow was about how you were so in love-"

"_What_?" Draco responded, dumbfounded. _Love?_ Sure, he had strong feelings for the girl, but was love a bit strong. Actually, the more he thought about it, maybe he did- _No!_ Couldn't be. _Could it?_

"It's kind of obvious," Potter grinned.

"I don't-but she-it's just….it's not like that. She and I are just- why are you bloody laughing, Potter?"

"The great Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin reduced to a bumbling mess over a muggleborn girl. It's priceless, really," Potter answered, a genuine smile gracing his lips. Draco just couldn't understand it. Why was Potter taking this so lightly.

"Why aren't you angry? Shouldn't you be trying to defend her honor or something?"

"Look, I'm going to say this and I'm going to say it once. After Ron, I was afraid that Hermione would go into a fit of depression. The ass nearly broke her, or so I thought. But then she starts sending me these letters, and almost every one of them has something about you. And after a few weeks, she didn't seem upset, she seemed…happy almost. You kept her from going insane. No matter what you've done in the past, I am grateful to you for being there when Ginny or I couldn't."

It was almost too much for him. He had spent weeks, months even, feeling as though he had no effect on her whatsoever. How long had he been pining and praying for her to feel even a fraction of what he felt. But now, it seemed she was. In some small way, she thought about him. She cared about him. The thought made his heart soar.

"She really wrote about me in her letters?"

"Almost every day," Potter admitted awkwardly. "I don't even think she realized it half the time. She was always one to just say whatever was on her mind. She would mention that you were fighting, or that you had been friendly, or told a joke. Even when you were frustrating her I think you were helping her."

Draco couldn't stop the ear-to-ear grin that spread across his face. He felt as if his insides would burst with excitement. She cared about him, she felt something for him, even if it was miniscule. But that was enough for him. He was determined now. He would have her. After all, he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys always got what they wanted. And Merlin did he want her!

"Stop grinning like that," Potter groaned. "This is already weird enough. Look, when Ginny and I aren't here you can do whatever you want-" (Draco's thoughts swam with the possibilities of that statement) "-but you can't act like that around us and you absolutely cannot hurt her. You do, and I'll see to it myself you die. Got it?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Draco replied sincerely. The two shared an awkward, albeit understanding, glance before they heard footsteps on the stairs.

"I hope you boys haven't been trying to hex each other to bits," Ginny said as she bounded to Potter's side.

"As a matter of fact, Malfoy and I have come to an understanding…sort of." Ginny's eyes widened considerably at Potter's confession.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. He…he's actually not all that bad," Potter responded grudgingly.

"I told you so," the ginger mocked with a wide smile. "See, you should always-"

"I know, I should always listen to you."

* * *

><p>As Draco lay in his bed later that afternoon, he pondered. Hermione and the Wizarding World's favorite couple had gone to Hogsmeade. Despite Hermione's pleading with him to go, he had politely refused. He felt as if she should have some time alone with her friends. Plus, he really needed to ponder.<p>

Did he love her? Was that even possible for someone like him? All he had ever known was a lifetime of hate. Could he even know what love was? The only person he ever felt love for was his mother, but that was completely different than what he felt for Hermione.

She made him feel…alive. Good. When he was with her, everything he had done in the past wasn't forgotten, but rather forgiven. She was calm, and gentle, and loving. She gave him hope when he thought there was none. He smiled when she smiled. He wouldn't even know why she was happy, he was just glad she was. She was…incredibly gorgeous. There was no point in denying the fact that every time she walked in a room his breath caught in his throat. He didn't know how he never noticed it before. Then again, he was stupid before. All he ever thought about was himself.

He realized suddenly that now, rarely would a thought pass through his head that did not in some way pertain to her. She was in his every waking, and to be honest sleeping, thought. He knew he would do anything for her. He would do anything to see that smile, to never see her cry again. He would die if it would protect her. So, he was obsessed. Utterly obsessed with her. But did that obsession equal love?

What did he know about love? From what he had always heard, it was strong affection, personal attachment. Check. It was passionate emotion towards another person. Check. It was the selfless need to put that someone before yourself in every way. That was definitely a check. So, he did love her. He bolted up in his bed as the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

Of course he loved her. How could he not? How could anyone not? She was perfect. Why had he even been thinking about this? Loving her should never have been a question. Now that he had opened his mind to the idea, he saw that he had loved her for a very long time, probably since he first saw her on the train.

Now, more than ever before, he was determined to have her. She would be his. He laid back down, a big smile on his face.

"Malfoy?"

Oh how he wished she would call him by his name. _All in good time._

"Yes?"

"Will you please come out here? I don't know why you're acting so anti-social all of a sudden," she huffed. He turned his head to where she stood in his doorway to see she was pouting. He restrained himself from going over to kiss those full, pouty lips.

"I'm sure you and your friends will have a lot more fun without me," he replied sincerely. Just because they were nice didn't mean they felt comfortable around him, and he didn't blame them.

"Oh, just stop it. They're willing to give you a chance. You should give them one!"

There was that fire in her eyes. He wondered if she knew it made her absolutely irresistible.

"I am giving them a chance. I just figured they would be more comfortable without a former Death Eater in the room," he mumbled grudgingly. Her eyes widened somewhat. He could tell he had just made her uncomfortable, which was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, I understand why you did. Look, I'm not saying all is forgotten. But it is forgiven. They don't care about that. I don't. You have to stop thinking about that. It's just going to drive you crazy. Please, come down to the common room. It's Christmas for Merlin sake! You're my friend and I really want you to be there. Come have fun. Don't lock yourself away again."

He was struck by how well she knew him. Locking himself away in guilt was a common thing for him indeed, but he didn't think she knew why. He always had an excuse for those days. Homework, illness, etc. But she knew.

"Well, how can I say no to that," he finally said with a weary grin. And there it was, what he had waited four months for.

She smiled. Brightly, and full of warmth. It stretched across her face from ear to ear. There was no judgment, no hatred, no annoyance. Only joy and care. And it was for _him_. She was smiling so happily for him. Unconsciously, he raised his hand to her cheek to trace the lines her smile had created. It faltered slightly, and her eyes took on a curious look.

"What are you doing?"

"I love it when you smile like that," he replied honestly, looking directly into her caramel eyes. Her smile came back full force.

"Well, I guess you're going to have to keep me happy," she laughed. Her voice was carefree and playful. He loved it.

"That I will."

* * *

><p>The evening passed flawlessly. Draco was surprised by how well he actually got on with Potter when he gave him a chance. They weren't exactly pals, but they had found middle ground in conversation: Quidditch. As long as they stayed on the subject, they might as well have been best mates. Ginny and Hermione spent the night talking by the fire. Every now and then when Draco would tune into their conversation, he would hear bits and pieces about the Weasel. He was pleasantly surprised to see Hermione take everything so lightly. She just laughed and rolled her eyes when the redhead told her that the Brown girl had been invited to the Burrow for the holidays. It seemed she truly was over him. He grinned at the fact.<p>

Just before it was time for supper, Potter and Ginny took their leave so they could make it in time for the Weasley family dinner.

"Won't you please come," Ginny pleaded one last time with Hermione as they stood by the fire place.

"No, I won't. I appreciate the offer, Ginny, but I'm perfectly happy here." _With me,_ Draco thought.

"Oh, alright," she pouted. Suddenly, Draco felt himself being pulled aside. He looked over and saw Potter.

"As much as I hate to say it – and I really do since I don't fully trust you yet – you're actually good for her. I came here expecting to have to comfort her because of Ron. But she's perfectly fine. She's completely forgotten about him. And that's because of you. So…thanks I guess."

Draco nodded solemnly, shocked by Potter's thanks. It was more than he could have hoped for. Then, Potter's face changed from awkward to serious.

"But if I find out you hurt her in any way, intentionally or not, I'll make sure you're never able to reproduce."

Draco laughed. "There's the Potter I know so well. I wouldn't dream of it, I assure you. She's…well, let's just say you were right about what you said yesterday."

Potters eyes grew wide at his admission, and he shifted awkwardly. "Right, well, civil acquaintances?" Draco took his proffered hand.

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

Then they were gone, and Draco and Hermione were alone once again.

"What were you talking to Harry about? Earlier when he was about to leave, I mean."

He turned to look at the brunette beauty. Even after nearly four months of living with her, the fierceness of her gaze struck him. He glanced away quickly, putting back the book he had been considering and grabbing another. It had been a couple of hours since the famous couple had left, and he had to fight himself away from her every second. She was like an intoxicating drug he was addicted to.

"Well, we've decided to be….not friends exactly, but acquaintances. He's actually not that bad," he responded, repeating Potter's earlier words.

"Good," she said with a smug smile as she plopped onto the couch. Draco landed beside her. In a bold move, he picked up her feet to lay them in his lap. If he was surprised by his boldness, he was even more surprised that she allowed it. Pushing his luck, he went a step further and started rubbing her feet and calves. She merely sighed while she laid back and stretched across the couch, tired from the day's tense atmosphere. He grinned. This was so comfortable, so right.

"Do you think…" He trailed off, not knowing how to continue exactly. The words were there, but how could he ask? How could he ask even more?

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"No, what is it?" she insisted, sitting up slightly.

"Well, do you think we ever could be…friends? Would that be possible for someone like me?" His eyes begged her for affirmation, but in his heart he knew he shouldn't receive it. She looked at him sadly and moved to cup his cheek in her hand. A pleasant fire erupted within him. Strange, he always associated her with fire and warmth, something he had never known with anyone else. It was as if she gave him life.

"Yes, I think so," she whispered. She leaned closer, as did he. He could feel her warm breath across his lips. He could taste it. Just a little closer and-

"What in the bloody hell is this?"

Draco jumped up swiftly, drawing his wand to fend off the intruder. Upon a single glance, however, he realized the intruder was the Weasel himself. _Brilliant. I'll never get her to kiss me at the rate this is going._

"Ronald, what are you doing here?"

She wasn't embarrassed like he would've expected. Instead, she was furious, absolutely seething. He didn't think he had ever been more turned on. Her eyes flamed, her cheeks were flushed, and she was huffing quick breaths as she screamed at the fool.

"What am I doing here? I came to see you! Harry and Ginny were talking nonsense about you and Malfoy, so I came to prove it wasn't true. But now I see you're shacked up with the bloody prat!"

"What would it matter to you? You have no say in who I choose to be with. You gave that up, remember. You tossed me aside like the huge arse that you are. You're off having tons of fun with that filthy whore!"

Did she just call someone a whore? _Hermione?_ Wait, she didn't deny that they were together. Obviously they weren't. But maybe she wasn't so opposed to the idea after all. Hey! That weasel had just called him a prat. Draco felt annoyance rising within him, but he didn't act. In truth, he was far more amused by Hermione's reactions than he was annoyed. As long as Weasley didn't cross the line, Draco was content to sit back and watch the dainty brunette attack.

"The only whore I see is you!" She gasped sharply, tears quickly filling her eyes. That's it, Weasley definitely just crossed the line.

Weasley fell backward, his jaw aching with the pain from Draco's carefully delivered punch. "Don't you dare call her that you pathetic imbecile."

The Weasel hopped up and rammed his fist into Draco's stomach. They fell to the ground, exchanging blows.

"I'll call her whatever I feel like, Ferret."

"You're just angry because you realized you threw away the perfect girl and she's seen what an idiot you are. How you ever got her in the first place, I'll never know. You clearly don't deserve her," Draco hissed.

"Boys! Stop this now!"

They ignored her and continued. Suddenly, they were frozen. Draco saw Hermione's wand raised in his peripheral. They were pushed away from each other before they were released from the body-bind she had put them under. Silence went across the room as they glared at each other. Finally, Weasley dropped his gaze. He looked up at Hermione, his eyes shining with regret.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I really shouldn't have said that." Did he really think that would work? He was an idiot.

"I don't care. I'm sick of your apologies Ronald. Maybe you one day you'll learn to hold your tongue and you won't have to make as many," she spat at him, her eyes still aflame.

Weasley's face grew bitter. "Fine." His gaze shifted back to Draco. "As for you, maybe you're right. But do you honestly think that you deserve her. You've only made her life miserable for the past six years. You've only insulted her and tormented her to the point of tears. You've only sat back and watched her be tortured and nearly murdered right in front of you. You are the last person who could ever deserve her."

With this said, he walked back to the fireplace through which he had arrived. A green flash, and he was gone.

Draco was left with the reality of what he had said. Every word of it was true, and that was what hurt the most. Everything he had been trying to ignore so he could be with her, and there it was. He hated Weasley. He hated him for being such a jerk to Hermione. He hated him for having things Draco had never even dreamed of. He hated him for being right. But most of all, Draco hated himself.

"Hey." Her voice was soft, timid. He felt her fingers trying to pull his face upward so she could see his eyes. He couldn't let her. He pushed her away and stalked toward his room. He made it through the doorway before he heard her voice again.

"Hey!" she said with force this time. He turned to see she had followed him.

"Hermione, please just leave," he muttered through gritted teeth. She needed to be away from him.

"No," she shot defiantly. "I will not. What's wrong with you? Was it something I said?" Her voice now held worry. His face grew angrily perplexed as he looked at her.

"What? No, of course not. You didn't say anything wrong."

"Well, surely you're not listening to what Ron said," she responded dismissively. He gave a short, humorless laugh.

"Actually, yes."

"Why? You know he's an idiot, you said so yo-"

"Because he's right! Don't you see that!" he yelled forcefully, his voice harsh. Her eyes were wide, and she looked frightened. _Good,_ he thought. _Maybe now she'll learn that she's better off without you._

"Hermione," he continued, his voice softening somewhat. "Everything his said was right. It's everything that's been haunting me since I got here. It's everything I've tortured myself over." His voice was sad, yet resigned. She opened her mouth, but he kept speaking.

"I can never forgive myself for what I've done to you. I've tried so hard to be good enough for you, but I can't. Not after what I've done."

He dropped his face to the ground. She would realize he was right. She had to. She was Hermione Granger. Above all else, she was logical.

Fingertips grazed the skin of his chin, pulling it up as they had moments before. He looked into those warm eyes and saw they were brimming with fresh tears. He hated himself even more for upsetting her.

"You are not bad," she said slowly, enunciating every word firmly. He pushed her away and made a disgusted noise. Swiftly, so swift she almost didn't catch the movement, he raised the sleeve of his of his left arm to reveal the faded Dark Mark.

"I think this proves you incorrect for once. Do you see this? No matter what I do this will always show me just how _bad_ I really am."

Anger flooded her features as she raised the same sleeve, revealing her own scars. He turned away, tears filling his own eyes. He didn't need to see it. The vision had been burned into his memory forever.

"You're not the only one who is marked. Do _you_ see this? Because I want you to take a long, hard look at it. Go on, look at it!" she insisted when he still refused to turn his head. Reluctantly, he glanced back at the scars. The hateful word was raised against her skin in faint pink marks, forever imprinting that horrible night onto her otherwise flawless body. He chanced a glance at her face and saw tears streaming freely now. He moved to her quickly, wiping them away gently before pulling her into his arms.

"Do you think that's who I am?" she choked out. He held her back in his arms to see her face. He was appalled.

"What! How could you say that?"

"Just answer the question!" she pleaded desperately.

"No, of course not." He had not thought that for quite some time now.

"Then why should your mark say anything about who you are?"

He gaped, frozen in place. How could he possibly respond to that? Of course his mark said something about him. Hers didn't because she had never acted that way, but he had. He had followed orders like a scared little boy. He had hurt people, people like her.

"This word…it may be what I am, but it isn't who I am. That mark on your arm, it is what you are. You are a Death Eater, you've done horrible things. But that's not who you are. I know who you are, and that person is good and kind and-"

"And a coward!"

"What?"

He sighed deeply. "I'm a bloody coward. I never wanted any of it, but I was too scared to stop it. I was too scared to stop them from torturing people I knew. I was too scared to save you. I just watched you, Hermione. You have no idea how that sight has haunted me. I'm a coward."

"No, you're not," she whispered defiantly and he stared at her in wonder.

"But Hermione, the things I've done-"

"Don't matter. All that matters is that you know they were wrong. And I think the fact that you stood up for what was right, even though it was belatedly, took a great amount of courage. You may have done awful things in the past, but what matters is who you are now. You've chosen to be good, and you truly are. I was the last person who would ever think that you could be a good man. But Draco, you are."

He stared at her with wide eyes. He had never loved her more than in that moment. He had done absolutely nothing to deserve her, but here she was, and he was never letting her go again.

"Say it again," he murmured pleadingly, desperately almost.

"You're a good man," she began but he cut her off.

"No, not that. My name."

She stared in confusion before realization struck her. "Draco," she whispered reverently, almost even, dare he think it, lovingly.

He really couldn't be held responsible for his actions. He was already in an emotional state as it was. Not to mention the fact he was in bloody love with the girl. It was just the final straw that broke the camel's back. He was not to blame.

In a single instant, his lips had attached themselves to hers, pressed against them firmly as he gripped her tightly in his arms. Her gasp of shock quickly turned into a moan as she began to kiss him back. She opened her mouth slightly and he immediately deepened the kiss. Their lips worked furiously against the others as they battled for dominance. When she finally broke away, only because she desperately needed air, his lips stayed attached to her neck, cherishing every bit of exposed skin. In between his kisses, he heard her murmuring his name softly. Suddenly, he pulled back to look her in the eyes.

Her eyes were wide and vulnerable, fearing what he would say. As if he could ever hurt her, especially now.

"You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that," he breathed. Her face lit up in a glorious blush before a shy smile illuminated her face.

"Likewise."


End file.
